


Like tea and chocolate chips

by CrazyChicken



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyChicken/pseuds/CrazyChicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why Mario isn't at his parents' house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like tea and chocolate chips

**Author's Note:**

> This is random and plotless and too fluffy.

It was a normal Monday afternoon at Marco’s apartment. Mario was reading some magazines while Marco watched TV from his favourite chair. Both guys were tired and lazy from that morning’s training. Out of nowhere, Marco turned off the TV and asked: “Why are you here?”

Mario looked up from his magazine, while his thoughts were still on what he had just read. Marco could tell if from his eyes and it was one of those things he liked about him: that focus on whatever he was doing; that concentration on his highest aim; that passion burning like a fire. It took a few moments before Mario was back to real life and understood the meaning of the question – and it hit him, more or less.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, pointing his thumb towards the door, although he made no moves whatsoever to stand up.

“No, no,” Marco answered a bit too quickly. “Please, stay,” he added, blushing.

Mario sat back comfortable, a bit relieved though not surprised.

“It’s just – your parents’ house is so much bigger than mine. Your TV is better, your refrigerator fuller, your basement is huge and your bath is... well, it’s amazing.”

Mario smiled at the thought of the tub back home, with its bubbles and all other extras.

“Why would you want to be here if you have all that there?” Marco continued. “Why don’t you just go home?” True, this way it did sound like he didn’t want him around.

“Listen, if you want me to go, just tell me. You can be honest with me.”

Marco knew it was true; he could always be honest with Mario. “No, I swear, that’s not what I mean. When I said ‘please, stay’ it wasn’t a polite request. I really want you to be here with me. I like your company.”

“Even when we don’t talk?”

“Especially when we don’t talk.” Marco raised an inappropriate eyebrow and Mario grinned at him from across the room.

Marco stood up and sat down on the couch next to Mario. “Look, it’s just really something that’s been bothering me. What keeps you here? What makes you choose this messy place over your own palace?”

Marco wasn’t biting his lip or smiling or pulling faces, so Mario knew it was a serious question.

“Because a palace is not a home,” he answered. “A palace is cold place that’s way too big and very lonely. Here, I’ve got you. And our TV and kitchen and bathroom and fuck, even my bed altogether just don’t compare to you.”

Marco blushed. “Really?”

Mario nodded as if it were the most simple and normal thing in the world. “Also, this just feels right. It’s normal routine, you know? Like when you used to come home from school and your mother was waiting with a warm cup of tea and you never questioned that either, because you just didn’t know anything else than that, than walking in with your hair all messed up because of the wind, and then smelling the smell of strawberry tea and chocolate chip cookies? That’s how I feel when I’m with you. I just don’t know anything else than spending my days here.”

Marco was surprised at the flow of words that had escaped from his friend’s lips. They sounded like they were from some romantic comedy, yet they were so real. Mario was the only person who knew what his mother gave him when he came home from school. It was amazing how he had remembered every little detail from the tales Marco had told him during nightly conversations. And how perfectly they had all fit in his story, this feeling they were both feeling but could never truly describe.

It was so right, so real, so personal and so intimate and it left Marco struck.

“Thank you,” was all he could say eventually, but Mario understood.

“Do you want me to make us tea?” Mario asked, feeling conscious, but Marco just shook his head. Then he wrapped his arms around Mario’s body and held him close for minutes. It wasn’t like any other hug, forced and uncomfortable, casual and meaningless; it was magic in the making. They cuddled up for the rest of the afternoon and then they went to the supermarket to get strawberry tea and chocolate cookies. This was their kind of home and they didn’t know anything else than this.


End file.
